


Ir Abelas, Vhenan

by enigmalea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fade Shenanigans, Halamshiral (Dragon Age), One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Trespasser, The Fade, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21997561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/pseuds/enigmalea
Summary: Ellana Lavellan dreams of Halamshiral.I saw this earlier on tumblr… and welp… this happened. I know this was intended to be a slash prompt, but if this doesn’t scream post-Trespasser Solavellan, I don’t know what does.You still see him sometimes; lurking in shadows and visiting your dreams. For so long you wished he'd leave.Lately you've begun to believe his presence is almost soothing. You wish he'd stay forever.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Frilly Cakes: A Collection of Dragon Age Drabbles and One Shots





	Ir Abelas, Vhenan

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a screenshot of the original prompt
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>   
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> * * *
> 
> I've decided to separate out my drabbles to make them easier to find and put them in a collection instead. Sorry to anyone who gets multiple notifications about things they've already read!
> 
> * * *
> 
> **follow me for updates:** [ao3 (click subscribe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmalea/profile) ☆ [tumblr](http://enigmalea.tumblr.com) ☆ [twitter](https://twitter.com/enigmaleaDA)  
>  **prompt me:** [how to](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/post/185117840754) ☆ [submit](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/ask) ☆ [read on tumblr](https://enigmalea.tumblr.com/tagged/my-drabbles) ☆ [read on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/frillycakes)  
>   
>  **join me on discord:** [The Hanged Man](https://discord.gg/9RERC6R) (18+, DA fanfic server for writers, readers, and betas)

She tried not to dwell on how her heavy footsteps echoed across the dais as she took the final steps toward the door leading to her room. In the days since the Exalted Council, Skyhold had slowly become abandoned by the Nobles and Chantry members who were, in years past, so eager to give her their support. She tried not to focus on the heavy click of the lock or on how difficult it was to get the key back out with only one hand. In the early days, struggling with this lock ended in her screaming and kicking the door in wild frustration while imagining it was Solas’ head; now, it simply left her drained. The key popped free with a metallic _clank_ and she vowed never to lock it again. For real this time. There was no point anyway; too few people remained for her to be concerned with her privacy.

The stairs were too long to climb; each step felt heavier and heavier as she leaned against the right wall. Before the final battle against Corypheus, she had climbed these steps eagerly, fingertips sliding lightly against the polished wood banister, every step taking her closer to where her vhenan awaited her - either physically or in the Fade. But now, he haunted her dreams, the wolf on the horizon, watching her as she wove her way through battlefields and woods made of her memories. She pretended she didn’t know he was there, even though they both knew as a Dreamer, she’d always be aware of his presence. It was easier to ignore it.

Ellana sighed heavily as she reached the second landing before the door to her bedroom. Some part of her hoped he would be there, tonight, miraculously. Perhaps he’d have snuck in through the Eluvian and hidden behind wards to bypass the few advisers and friends who were still around. She knew better than to hope, and she shoved the thought down deep. Still, as she opened the door to her room, a tiny spark of hope survived in her chest, extinguished only when she found the room empty.

It was difficult for her to peel out of her armor one-armed, but not impossible. She was thankful as a mage she could travel light and didn’t require heavy armor like a warrior, no matter how much Commander Cullen tried to convince her it was necessary. Her barrier was more than enough to protect her - not that she saw much combat these days.

She didn’t bother getting dressed for bed; it was simply too much effort. She fell into the soft mattress and wrapped herself in the expensive Orlesian sheets she’d become accustomed to just as her tears began to fall. For once, the infinite loneliness seemed worse while she was awake, and she welcomed the thought of the wolf in the distance of her dreams; his presence had become a balm against the emptiness which had begun to fill her waking hours.

Ellana was aware of the moment she slipped into the Fade. One moment she was in her bed, the next she was at Halamshiral. The dress she wore gauzy and light and she had no mask, in stark contrast to the nobles who should be present but were suspiciously absent. Her bare feet made no noise on the cold marble; the room was too silent. She made her way down the stairs slowly, her left hand (still present in her dreams) brushed against the banister; she remembered the strong voice announcing her at the Empress’ ball, and it echoed around her as if summoned. Her feet touched the dance floor as she wandered aimlessly. What was she doing here? Why had she chosen this place to dream tonight?

She felt his presence before she saw him, the immense weight of his power was undeniable. He clung to the edges of the room, always on the corner of her vision, disappearing as soon as she’d turn to look. She only saw a flash of a black tale now and then, the glowing glint of red that was his eyes.

She wasn’t sure how long they played that game- time in the Fade moved differently- but it felt like an eternity. Finally, she let out a desperate sob, his name falling like a plea from her lips, “Solas.” The wolf froze as she turned to look at him. “Please… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend to not know you’re there.”

The wolf slunk back into its own shadow, closing its six red eyes until she could no longer see it. For one horrific moment, Ellana thought he’d left her, for good. He seemed to grow from the shadows- one second, he was gone, the next he was there, incorporeal as a spirit, and then as solid as she was. She expected to see him as he’d been at the Crossroads when he’d stopped the Anchor from killing her, but instead, he wore the official dress uniform of the Inquisition. The coat, however, was moss green, and the sash a resplendently, intricately brocade silver silk. The stupid hat that he’d worn (which was every bit a fuck you to the human nobility, he’d explained later) was thankfully missing.

“I’m sorry,” he called mournfully, his voice echoing in the empty chamber.

“What for?” she asked. His expression went from pained and somber to surprised.

“Everything,” he answered. “All of it.”

“Stop,” she said softly, looking away from him. She didn’t want to think about how he’d taken her vallaslin or her arm or her dignity. She didn’t want to think about how she couldn’t figure out how to continue on without him; how her desperate plan to save Fen'Harel from himself was simply a desperate plan to save _herself_. “Tonight… I want to play a different Game.”

“What’s that, vhenan?” When she looked back he was close, so close she could feel the heat coming off his body, could smell the scent of the woods just before it rained which clung to him no matter the weather, could hear the hammering of his heart in his chest (or was that her own?).

“Pretend. I want to play Pretend,” she answered taking a step to close the small gap between them.

“What would you like to pretend?” His voice was as silky smooth as the Orlesian sheets she was sleeping in and twice as sinful as the fancy Antivan dark chocolates Josephine had gotten her addicted to. It was everything she remembered it to be and more.

“Let’s pretend you never left,” she whispered. “That you never had to take my arm to save my life… that you’d told me the truth - not just about the vallaslin, but about who you are. Let’s pretend you’d trusted me… confided in me… that you still love me.” Her voice broke then as she choked on the final words, her face twisting up in an expression of pain which couldn’t display a fraction of what she was feeling.

“I do still love you, vhenan,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to cup her face. She leaned into his touch, angry at herself for how desperate she was for it, but when her eyes finally met his, she could see reflected in their grey-violet expanse how desperate he had been to touch her.

“Dance with me,” she requested.

“There’s no music,” he protested weakly because as soon as he did, the music swelled around them with such clarity, Ellana wasn’t sure which of them had summoned it. She smiled up at him, as he took her hand and pulled her close. Her arm went around him just as the waltz began, the pace quick and the broad steps sending them careening across the entire dance floor.

“How are you doing?” he asked politely.

“I’m great,” she lied, and the frown on his face told her he saw through the lie immediately. “Everyone is leaving. They all have their own lives to lead. Skyhold is lonely. I have new people, but it’s not the same and-” Her statement trailed off as she closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. She inhaled his scent. The temptation to risk pressing a kiss to his neck was overwhelming. “We’re supposed to be pretending you never left, remember?”

“Yes,” he agreed, and he squeezed her hand gently, “but I need to make sure you’re alright. How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” she asked incredulously, and then slowly the pieces fell into place. “You… you’re worried… about the damage the Anchor did. Is that why you’re in my dreams every night? Are you making sure I’m still alive?”

He didn’t answer. The arm around her tightened for an instant, and then he cleared his throat. “Have you packed for our trip to Kirkwall, vhenan?” he asked suddenly.

“ _What_?” she asked. “What are you-”

“Pretending I never left,” he whispered. The waltz stopped, replaced by a slower, more intimate song. He let go of her hand and pulled her close, wrapping his other arm around her. He cleared his throat. “Our trip to Kirkwall… are you ready? I hear the Viscount has been telling everyone about his friend the Inquisitor of months. I believe they’re expecting a giant riding a nuggalope.”

“Varric… does have a way with words,” she said. “Perhaps we _should_ take the nuggalope instead of the ship.” She smiled against his neck and pressed her lips there. “Solas,” she whispered. “I love you so much. Please don’t leave.”

“Ellana-” his voice was thick with emotion as he stopped moving on the dance floor.

“No, Solas, please. Come back to me. And don’t leave. Don’t ever leave me.”

“I wish I could, vhenan, but I… I can’t,” he pulled back from her slightly. “What I have to do, I can’t ask you to join me.”

“You’re not asking. I am. Please, Solas. _Please_.” She hated how desperate she sounded, hated the look of pain her words caused on his face, hated the way he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sorry, vhenan, but you have to go,” he whispered. “It’s morning.”

“NO,” she declared as if she could stop the passage of time with her sheer desperation.

“I’m sorry, Ellana, but you have to _wake up._ ”

The words wrenched her from her sleep even as she tried to fight them, the sob which echoed in her head followed her into her room. The balcony door was open, the morning air cold against her face. She took the blankets with her as she stood to close the door, shivering slightly. She didn’t remember this being open when she’d fallen asleep. Her eyes landed on her desk as she wiped at the single tear that was falling. Underneath the Golden Halla statue he’d purchased for her in Val Royeaux, sat a single sheet of parchment, folded in half, her name written in an elegant script she’d recognize anywhere.

With a shaking hand picked up the letter, knowing it meant he’d actually stepped foot in Skyhold, perhaps had been there with her while they’d slept. Her hand was still shaking as she opened it and read the simple message he’d wanted her to have:

_Ir abelas, vhenan._


End file.
